


Try Refusing A Million Times (But You're in Love)

by habitbynight



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic Harry, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Witch Harry, Witch! Harry, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7805284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habitbynight/pseuds/habitbynight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s a witch selling tea and sweets in The Umbrella, a shop he and his best mate Niall have just opened. But on ‘Official Opening Day’ he runs into Louis, and there the chaos ensues when Harry’s magic trickles into Louis. With Niall and Zayn at his side, it’s a regular quest for love: either Harry gets his magic back from the forbidden Louis whose dating Liam, or he preforms a dark ritual on himself to save himself from Louis’ madness that he most certainly will not survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why Is This Mad Heart Dancing?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Leo here, wanted to say hi. The official title is taken from a Bollywood movie, Diwale Dulhania Le Jayange (The Brave Heart Will Take the Bride Away). Here is the accompanying song, which is also the song for this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GmbSFsYVWNs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is going to be a strange fic: glad you're here! Get ready.

1

Harry Styles, witch, believes that he’s running late, but he isn’t very sure. His eyes are filled with the fog of the morning that roils through the city and he stumbles slightly as he rushes down the stairs to the tube. 

 

His fingers fumble, clutching the railing and sliding down its grime as he rushes past pedestrians, his black coat flapping behind him. The train he reaches narrowly in time by sending a very small sliver of magic through its doors, the silver catching hold of them and holding them for one small second more until he grabs onto the pole. 

 

Harry sighs tiredly to himself. He must look a sight to everyone around him, his hair thrown up in a messy bun, a black coat thrown over black jeans and a long sleeved owl sweater…plus combat boots, purple. Niall’s going to kill him for the outfit, and also for his tardiness. Being late on Official Opening Day isn’t going to bode well with customers.

 

The building they had created their little shop in was one where successful businessmen roamed, suits flapping, coffee steaming in their veins, where briefcases opening were common and elevators dinged noisily. But pedestrians were, for some reason, allowed on the first floor, so that’s where they had placed their shop, tucked in with the magazine counter, but almost as large as a airport perfume store. 

 

Harry was proud of _The Umbrella_ ; it was tastefully decorated in reds and golds, with a huge wall of tea and candy, and a small kitchen in the back, along with two tables and a couch for people to sit at and savor. It smelled like a different item of candy or tea everyday. That was his doing, actually; he had a bit of a knack for smell, so whenever the doors opened he would send out the smell of licorice or pumpkin tea or green moss candy (his personal favorite). He’d only had seven days to send out smells into the sea of business men in the morning and night, and it was his particular pleasure. So, there you had it: Harry Styles, witch, owned a tea and candy shop that was open from 8 am to 9 pm, with two breaks at 1 and 5.

 

_The Umbrella_ so far, very few had entered, so Niall’d come up with the idea of a “Official Opening Day”. Ah, Niall, with his blonde hair and business suits and his love of guitar so that there was always soft guitar music in their shop. Niall, Harry’s best friend who he’d met in Uni and who he’d first showed his magic to. Niall, being the Business major, manned the taxes and the bills in the back while eating candy and drinking tea. He always took a cup of chai around the foggy city putting up advertisements in pubs and bookstores.Harry, being the conversationalist that he was, manned the counter and sold the candy and tea, seeing as he made them.They both would tidy the store and close up for the night before they went their separate ways, Niall home to his boyfriend Zayn, and Harry home to…well, his cat, Noriko.

 

Harry greets the security guards as he enters, pulling his coat tight around him to try and make himself take up less room. The lobby’s always crowded and it’s a bit of a crunch to get through, his nostrils always filling with a million different kinds of cologne, and sometimes when he brushes too close against someone, he’ll get a hint of a emotion underneath all that cologne. 

 

But the crunch is so fierce that he stops moving; the emotions are becoming too much. He can see Niall at the shop, the doors unlocked and the orange and black sign proclaiming ‘We’re OPEN!’ out in front. Niall’s looking sharp, Harry observes, in a black cap with a white button down. Zayn must be so proud of him.Yet, he also looks troubled, as he keeps glancing at his watch. Harry sighs, and pulls out his phone begrudgingly, willing his fingers to move. 

 

**To: Nialler**

**Stuck in traffic of human bodies; suffocating.**

 

His phone buzzes only a moment later, when he’s wound himself past maybe two or three old businessmen, Gold Bond powder making him sneeze.

 

**From: Nialler**

**Just use ur magic ya twit**

**To: Nialler**

**Too obvious**

**From: Nialler**

**Use ribbon or sum thing like you do when your wrapping the packages**

 

Ah, Niall’sreferring to when Harry had wrapped at Christmas last year. They’d been wrapping gifts for their various family members at Niall’s house (Zayn had been in the kitchen, cooking, where Niall hadpractically shoved him). Harry had been wrapping a present for his sister, Gemma, when he realized that his own emotion was sinking into the gift. Niall had calmly informed him that he could ‘see’ the magic, a silver line dripping from Harry’s hands like puppet strings that sunk into the gift. He also said that if Harry had such a way with emotions and the like, he should channel them into something, because he could feel the love from across the room. And that was sort of how their shop had happened; Harry put emotions into sweets and teas.And Niall made it possible to make a profit out of them.

 

Harry shakes himself, and let the silver drip out of his fingers in the form of drops. They amass on the ground,and move forwards, delicately, and slow paced, waiting for him to follow them.

 

He’s maybe halfway through the crowd when the drops stop at a pair of feet. Harry frowns, his brow crinkling. He attempts to nudge them around. They won’t budge, and Harry must need glasses because they vanish.It was like they had sunk into the pair of feet. What does it mean? He stops his thoughts from racing. It’s early in the morning, and another witch must be playing a joke on him. 

 

He lifts his head and looks square at the person in front of him. 

 

 

Well, at least in looks, he had it. The man standing there tapping away on his phone was dressed in a charcoal grey suit with a black tie. He was lean and yet, curvy, and tan, his face stressed, but young. His blue eyes made Harry think of a foggy morning above a ocean storm. His hair was brown, and looked soft, like caramel taffy, done in a fringe. His lips had a slight quirk to them, signaling mischief to Harry…something he liked. This was the kind of man he’d take home with him. 

 

But his reverie stops there when someone that he can’t see shoves the man a little too roughly, and he flies…well, not flies, but he practically _rockets_ away from where he’d been standing, and at Harry’s close proximity, Harry should have fallen backwards, with the man falling on top of him. 

 

Harry’s faster, not to boast. His magic wraps around them, and he somehow manages to twist them so the beautiful man rocketed just shy of him, and his own hand shoots out and grabs the man by the wrist, turning him and pulling him flush with himself. _Smooth, Styles._

 

He can smell Gorgio Armani and he can feel, palpably,the shockof the man and the stress and…sadness too but there wasn’t enough time for Harry to concentrate and take it away because there were blue eyes looking up at him. 

 

“Hello!” Harry says brightly, his voice somewhat raspy from sleep, and the man’s eyes widen, almost comically. The man takes in their position, with his hand on Harry’s shoulder and Harry’s arm around his waist and blinks, his breathing growing slightly faster before his eyes flit to Harry’s again. 

 

“Where’s my phone?” is the first thing he says.His voice is heavily accented, British, and Harry almost smiles before the words register and he frowns, pulling away slightly, lets his hand go stiff on the man’s back.

 

“”Uh, I have no idea?” Harry replies, shrugging and trying for a brilliant smile that usually made men’s knees weak. 

 

“I have to find my phone.” The man retorts, his voice like a sharp edged blade, his body stiff. His hand drops off Harry’s shoulder and he steps away, his eyes scanning the ground furiously. 

 

“Don’t I get a thank you?” Harry crosses his arms, glaring now. No one had ever at least not thanked him, and though he admits that he’d been a bit more showy than normal, he still deserves thanks…maybe a drink later.

 

“Thanks.” The man says curtly as he spots the phone, lying on the ground. He scrambles for it, picking it up and rises to his full height, turning back to Harry. 

 

“I’m Harry, Harry Styles.” Harry tries, holding out his hand, but the man doesn’t even look up and grace him with a glance of those eyes. 

 

“I’m Louis Tomlinson and I have to get to work, so if you’ll excuse me.” He makes to walk past Harry, and the crunch makes it so he has to brush past him. His eyes flicker to Harry’s and a ghost of a smile seems to catchthe corner of his mouth. 

 

“I—“ is all Harry could get out, because Louis Tomlinson is gliding through the crowd faster than Harry had with his magic. He’s left with a sentence in his mouth and a warm feeling in his heart, even if the guy was somewhat of a arse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8iBitNuuAuU 
> 
> Ho Gaya Hai Tujhko To. Turn on CC to get what I'm getting at.


	2. This Is A Matter Of The Heart, Keep It Forced Inside Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinks on Saturday: Harry still feels weird from his encounter.

2

 

What he’d wanted to say he ends up saying to Niall instead, running a hand through his hair as he greets his friend.

 

“—would like to take you for a drink at Starbucks even though you’re the most beautiful star I’ve ever seen.” He says, laughing. 

 

“Whoa, Styles, someone needs to get laid.” Niall says as he sips his hot pumpkin tea that Harry had brewed for him as a birthday present. “You’re twenty minutes late!”

 

“Witches prefer not to get laid, thank you.” Harry slidehis coat off, placing it neatly on his chair. “ I met someone.” 

 

“Again?” 

 

“I mean it, Niall!” Harry groans, his fingers gliding over the jars of tea and the boxes of candy lined up behind him. He slides his tattered and torn copy of Tome of Shadows oufrom under the counter. It’s heavy, rotting pages all but blank. When touched by a witch, it would show you what you most needed to know in that moment…for magic. Harry’d once tried to use it to guess what Niall liked most about Zayn and he came up with stuff about mushrooms.

 

“So, if you mean it, whose the lucky lad? Did you get their number?”

 

“No. All I know is his name is Louis Tomlinson and he was a wanker.”

 

“Perhaps because you’d like to wank him.”

 

“Niall!” Harry flails, dropping the ancient tome on his foot. 

 

The morning’s uneventful, the clock ticking slowly above their heads. Harry can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t feel right. He attempts to use his magic, but it seems slower and foggy, so he gives up. When noon passes, Niallrises from his chair, his back cracking as he sighs something about luncheon. Yes, Niall says luncheon.

 

“Will you get me—“ Harry begins, but Niall cuts him off with a jab in the ribs.

 

“Yes, I know, your crazy strawberry banana carrot and red cayenne pepper drink at Smooth-Attack. And I’ll get myself and Zayn that amazing Chinese dish from that amazing place…what was it?” 

 

Niall slings his coat on, the leather scuffed and worn, too big for Niall, so it’s definitely Zayns. 

 

“Uh, was it…Bell Tower?” Harry supplies, shaking his hair out of the bun.

 

“Ding, ding, you win Jeopardy!” Niall chuckles, patting his cheek and exits the store humming the Jeopardy theme song. Harry is left with Niall’s leftover emotions of victory and relaxation. 

 

The lobby’s quiet now, with only a few people loitering around or clicking to the elevators. The lunch rush had mostly been secretary balancing enough food for twenty people and Harry had gone out and helped them carry it to the elevators. Now he let his head loll to one side as he pulls out his phone.

 

**To: Zayn**

**Niall went to get you two dinner.**

**From: Zayn**

**He’s a sweetheart.**

**To: Zayn**

**Ain’t it the truth. Do you know anything about the people in this building?**

**From: Zayn**

**Why would I? No.**

**To: Zayn**

**Thought you said you had a friend in here?**

**From: Zayn**

**Oh, yeah, Liam! Met him and his boyfriend a month back, we get together sometimes.Why are you asking…?**

**To: Zayn**

**Nah, saw a beautiful man, wondered if you knew him.**

**From: Zayn**

**Not a chance, really. Got my eye on a Irish man and they can’t be torn from him.**

**To: Zayn**

**Alright, well, ta anyway. <3**

**From: Zayn**

**See you tomorrow.**

 

Ah, yes. Harry’s forgotten about tomorrow: drinks. He smiles to himself: drinks were always fun with Zayn and Niall.

 

Niall would be sitting there, a ball of energy with too many shots in him, and Zayn would be balancing him out with his cool attitude, a glass of white in his hands, his smile breaking unexpectedly when Niall laughed loudly.And Harry would be sitting there with his hands around a glass of mulled wine (no matter the season). The bar they went to was very Lord of the Rings; booths and tables and beautiful mandolin music which Zayn would gush poetic about. 

 

Zayn had been a English major. He worked at ‘Quills by Quinn’ which was both a place where you could go and buy elegant fountain pens or scented paper, or poems, written by Zayn. He was the only poet in the shop, but he was also incredibly good at selling. He would get a waxy look in his eye and drift off and by the time he was done it would feel like a candle had burned its way out of his eyes and turned into fire. The customer always bought what he advertised.

 

Harry wishes silently that he could wax poetic about tea and candy, but he usually waxed about the emotions in them. When he’d been offering free samples last week, he’d accidentally said there was happiness in the chocolate caramel twist, and the little old lady had laughed at him. Niall hadn’t let him live that down so easy.

 

Pushing thoughts of his friends out of his mind, he heads to the incredibly small kitchen to make something…but what? He shrugs. Randomness is his specialty. 

 

His magic is there, pulsing in his fingertips. Faintly, as he dives into his work, he senses that he can feel his heartbeat much more strongly than usual. Weird.

 

When he comes up for air, the silver still dripping from his fingertips and mixing with the batter, thats looks like a sort of cake mixture. Harry frowns, brushing the flour off his hands. He isn’t a baker, he doesn’t make cakes. He touches his long, pale finger to his wrist, tries to find his pulse. Usually it isn't there, but now it’s thrumming like a hummingbird. Again, very weird. 

 

He doesn’t have much time to worry about it, because suddenly there’s a smoothie in front of his face.

 

“The hell are you making?” Niall shouts, a bit too loudly for indoor voices.Harry turns to him, taking the drink from him, and resting his hip on the counter. 

 

“Thanks. And…honestly, I don’t know. I was trying to make something like I usually do, and it turned into…batter?” Harry shrugs again. 

 

Niall’s face becomes concerned, as his expressive face usually does,and he yanks on Harry’s sweater (“Hey, watch it, there! That’s my favorite sweater!”). He knows that Harry is one of the finest creators of deliciously sweet and creative food and drink and that something is seriously wrong if he’s not working at it. His magic, Niall’d said many times, was honestly flawless, and it only tripped up…well, never. 

 

“Were you not concentrating? Did something happen?” 

 

After Harry had sat down and had a cup of saffron tea, his hand being held in Niall’s, he explains what had happened with Louis and the drops, this time in detail. Niall’s face is like a thundercloud. 

 

“Let’s consult the magic book tomorrow, eh?” Niall says, trying to shake the worry out of his face, but Harry can feel the worry pulsing up their connected hands and he pulls away.

 

“It’s a tome, Niall, I swear to God.” Niall never got it right, Harry thought fondly. Tomorrow was drinking night, Saturday; he’d appreciate both Zayn and Niall’s advice on this small matter. 

 

“You don’t believe in God, you’re too narcissistic!” Niall jokes as he gathers the utensils Harry had used and puts them in the sink. 

 

With a heavy heart, Harry dumps the batter in the trash and slams it shut.Enough practice for one day. 

 

XXXX

 

**From: Nialler**

**We’ll see you at 7 tonight, right? You’re okay?**

**From: Nialler**

**Do you have the book?**

**To: Nialler**

**Don’t be a mother duck it doesn’t suit you.**

**To: Nialler**

**I am a witch of the arcane, I’m fine.**

**To: Nialler**

**It’s tome, not book.**

**From: Nialler**

**It’s a total book.**

 

**From: Zayn**

**See you soon m8.**

**To: Zayn**

**Of course you will.**

 

Harry sighs to himself, running his hands through his hair again. He’s opted for something casual and not weird tonight, just white jeans (because summer had just ended) and a shirt with ocean waves crashing against each other. As he finishes painting his index finger nail red, his phone buzzes again.

 

**From: Nialler**

**Liam is coming with his boyfriend.**

**To: Nialler**

**We’ll have to use the book later then, I’m leaving it here.**

**From: Nialler**

**:( Just cast magic on them so they can’t see what you’re doing.**

**To: Nialler**

**Not how it works! And TOME! It’s a tome!**

 

Upon arriving at the pub, Harry regards Niall, hand clasped tight with Zayn’s, as they probably reenact how they met to someone who looked like Liam. Harry grins wholeheartedly; he knows the story backwards.

 

Niall had been in the makeup section of some store, and he’d bumped into Zayn, who had start to say things about his eyes, making Niall laugh. Niall had taken him for a drink, they’d exchanged numbers, and the next morning Niall had woken up with a bag of makeup outside his door covered by rose petals. The note had said ‘I don’t know if you like makeup: you’re pretty either way.’

 

Harry slides in next to Niall as he finishes the story and bursts into laughter. Niall is at his happiest when he’s with Zayn, and this evening is no exception. He’s also incredibly loud when he’s had too much to drink. 

 

Harry glances at the person opposite him. His head’s shaved, and he’s got crinkly brown eyes that make Harry want to jump.The smile he presents is friendly and open, and when they shake hands, Harry feels a tingle of victory run through their hands. 

 

“Pleasure to meet you.” Harry says, genuinely. 

 

“Likewise. Uh, I think Lou went to get drinks…Niall told us you like mulled wine, so I think he went to get the spiciest one because you’re the latecomer.” Liam laughs, his face lighting up.

 

“Oho, a prankster?” Harry chuckles. “Well, that’s fine, I’ll drink it to prove him wrong.”

 

“Well, you better stay true to that. Lou’s persuasive as fuck.” Liam answers as he leans back and stretches, his abs moving under his shirt. 

 

“You work on the third floor, right?” Niall pipes up, and Liam nods, his interest obviously peaked by work. Some kind of workaholic? 

 

“Yeah, I’m up in Finance. Lou works in Communications.” 

 

“Good work, then?” Harry asks as he turns to Zayn, sitting elegant and refined on the other side of Niall, motioning for him to give him a cigarette.

 

Zayn complies as Liam answers, something long winded that Harry isn’t listening to because he’s lighting up despite Niall’s quiet protest (“Witches don’t smoke, Harry) and turning his eyes back on Zayn.

 

“Thanks,” he says, leaning over Niall, whose small hands appear on his chest to push him back as he shakes Zayn’s ink stained hand. 

 

“Yeah, cheers.” Zayn replies, his eyes full of mirth. While Zayn looked healthy and happy, his emotions were sometimes hidden, but after he removes his hand, Harry’s left with a feeling of content. This time, at least, Zayn seems fine, his hair styled so it’s tied backwards in a tiny ponytail, his clothes dark and immaculate.

 

Harry blows the smoke towards the lantern hanging above their heads.His magic is still feeling weird, and the pulsing in his wrist has moved to his jugular vein. He shakes his head and tries to concentrate on what Liam was saying about his work, allowing a half-interested smile to emerge. 

 

 

“Alright, you lot, drink up before Niall and I steal all of it!” A familiar British accent tugs at Harry’s heartstrings, as a glass of mulled wine appears in front of him. His magic flares within him, lighting his insides with an intensity he’s never felt before. He suddenly feels devoid of feeling, only knowing that his head is swimming and he feels like he’s going to faint. 

 

“Harry…Harry…Harry?” Zayn nudges him back into consciousness and he blinks, straightening.

 

“What?” He mutters, rubbing at his pulse that is throbbing red hot on the side of his neck. 

 

“Well, and whose this?” Louis Tomlinson’s voice hits him like a thunderstorm, the accompanying clink of glasses like the aftermath of a particularly loud crash of thunder. 

 

“Uh…” Harry’s mouth is thick. This prick, this beauty, is Liam’s boyfriend? He swallows and attempts a smile. 

 

“Hello, I’m Harry Styles.” He says, letting heaviness weigh on his tongue, letting it come out slow and elegant, allowing himself to finally look up.

 

God. Was Louis a Greek god? He’s dressed beautifully in a Def Leppard shirt and black jeans,his hair looking similar to the morning. He looks fresh, like a flower, and young. Harry’s magic itches to wrap around him and Harry clenches his teeth. He’s never had this kind of trouble with his magic before. 

 

Liam’s arm appears, wrapping itself around the curve of Louis’ waist, and Harry feels his eyes flare with jealousy as Louis leans into it, putting his head on Liam’s shoulder. 

 

Harry tosses his head back, pride taking over his thoughts as he thinks, ‘y _ou just met him yesterday, surely you can’t be jealous. There’s plenty of fish in the sea.’_ But Harry Styles has been with quite a few people and he’s never been jealous like this. In the deeper part of his mind, he thinks it must mean something, but he doesn’t know what.

 

“Louis Tomlinson, but call me Tommo.” Louis sticks out a hand, smirking, his eyes saying _play along, old sport._

 

Harry gingerly reaches out, recalling the rush of emotion that he had felt yesterday. Would it be anything like it? When he reaches the proffered hand, he takes it…and gasps at the emotions going through his body.

 

Everything that had been there wasreplaced by entertainment, something that sang of lust, and curiosity. And underneath, something that appealed to Harry: charm. His own charm, the charm he had used on Louis the day before. It had stuck with Louis, it was under all his other emotions…that meant Harry is still in his head. Did his magic have something to do with it?

 

“Pleasure.” He says, his voice catching on the second syllable weakly before retracting his hand and grabbing his glass.

 

**From: Nialler**

**I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was your Louis.**

**To: Nialler**

**It’s fine. We all know he’s off limits now, though.**

 

Throughout the night, all five of them chatted. Harry learned Louis was born on Christmas Eve, that he likes footie, that he’s been dating Liam for three months, and he’s studied Business at Uni, but his real passion is books. That sends him and Zayn off on a round of talking about classic books, while Niall and Liam and Harry argue about what’s better: coffee or tea. 

 

The pounding in his jugular vein has migrated to his head, pounding, and if Harry would have touched Louis, he would have known it was Louis’ heartbeat in his head. His magic knows it, intuitively.

 

Finishing his third glass of mulled wine, he finally feels brave enough to stand up and say goodbye. They wave him off, laughing uproariously. Louis’ eyes meet his, glazed over and his cheeks are flushed, and he’s got the audacity to wink at Harry before turning and pressing himself closer to Liam.

 

On the walk back through the chilly, September air, Harry allows himself to convince himself that Louis was proper smashed, that he’s never going to wink at Harry in the way he wants him to. He belongs to Liam, and is attracted to Liam. _Plenty of fish in the sea._

 

Unlocking his door, he’s surprised to find his cat, Noriko, sitting, tail over paws, waiting for him, as if she knew he was in distress. He lifts the little black cat with the amber eyes and coos at her.

 

“How are you, my sweet kitten? Where you waiting for Harry to come home, hmm?” 

 

When she meows, he laughs, and gets out her favorite brand of salmon. As she eats, he buries himself in the shower, letting hot water drip over him. 

 

With wet hair and a full, purring cat by his side, he flops into bed, checking his phone once more before drifting off to sleep.

 

**From: Unknown Number**

**Didja gethome Curly?**

**To: Unknown Number**

**You have the wrong number**

**From: Unknown Number**

**Noooooooooo, Harry Styles = curly hair.**

**To: Unknown Number**

**Louis?**

**From: Unknown Number**

**Ta-da!!!!!!! x**

 

Harry puts his phone down, and lets himself stare at the ceiling. Perhaps he was wrong about Louis Tomlinson. He underestimated him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this Chapter is an AMAZING song:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjmnot3hSUg
> 
> Fear of the Dark by Iron Maiden!


	3. And In My Mind There Is Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam and Harry in the candy shop.

2

Well, that was when things started to change for Harry Styles.

 

He walked into work on Monday wearing a outfit of bright red jeans and a casual grey sweater over his shirt that has autumn leaves on it, and Niall was sitting behind the counter with his eyes glittering.

 

“Guess what I thought of?” He asks slyly, as Harry prepares him a cup of jasmine.

 

“What, Niall?” He grumbles. Sleep has been nigh impossible for him; his magic isn’t working right and he can’t think properly. 

 

“Let’s put posters up in this building!” Niall practically yells and Harry flinches.

 

“It’s 8:10, Niall, be more quiet.” He hisses. 

 

“But what do you think of the plan?” Niall looks so sad when Harry turns to him with his cup that he manages a smile that he hopes doesn’t look weak.

 

“Go get ‘em Niall.” is all he says before he attempts to make a batch of poppy-carrot-cinnamon swirls. They end up burning in the oven.

 

When Niall’s out at lunch, Harry takes out his Tome of Shadows. He stops and stares at it for a few, before opening it to the middle of the book, right between white and black magic, and breathes.

 

See, Harry’s magic is emotion magic, a very rare form of magic. He can sense the emotions, he can smell certain things, he can change their emotions (with a lot of concentration.) But he still hasn’t learned that much about his power. And this, what’s been happening with him now, he needs to find out what it is. 

 

He tries to breathe again, and sucks the air through his nostrils. But something besides the smell of herbs and sugar hits his scent glands. Cologne.

 

Harry’s eyes fly open and he’s pretty sure he turns red with guilt when he sees who it is. 

 

“Hi Harry!” Liam waves at him. “I saw the posters and I thought I’d come buy some stuff for me and Lou.”

 

Harry snaps the Tome of Shadows shut and shoves it away, and tries to catch his breath. 

 

“Uhm…” His brain swirls, trying to think of answers, but all he can think about is Louis in Liam’s arms…how the heartbeat in his brain accelerated and swam to his cock, which _had_ to have meant something. 

 

“Does it smell like smoke in here?” Liam sniffs and Harry coughs back to reality. 

 

“Hi…hi, Liam. Uhm, I burnt something early. Been having a tough time sleeping.”

 

“Well, what you need is a good romantic movie or something to put you to sleep!” Liam’s laughter fills the shop even though what he said wasn’t really that funny.

 

Harry tries for a smile and this time it comes out swinging.

 

“Well, what are you looking for? Tea or candy?” Harry folds his hands and places them on the table, raising a eyebrow, half mocking Liam, half not.

 

“Well, let’s say both?” Liam grins at him, and Harry feels that swirling guilt in his gut.The heartbeat has faded, for now, but it’s still there, aching in his jugular vein. 

 

“Well…for candy, I highly recommend the moss candy. It’s slightly bitter, slightly sweet. Or we have the caramel corn…or the poppy-carrot-cinnamon swirls, when I make some new ones…or the ghostly translucence lollipops.” 

 

Harry holds one up to demonstrate the white lollipop that looks like smoke on a stick.

 

“Tastes of this vary, it can either taste like smoky chocolate with chipotle or weed.”

 

Liam laughs at that, loudly, too loudly.

 

“Lou would love those. Can I have two of those, and can I have some of…those?” He points at the pink ones that Harry never mentions. 

 

S-sure. Those are our…well, they are very powerful love treats.” Harry jokes, but he’s half serious.

 

He made them when he was horny, about four days ago, and while the power is wearing off, they sure are potent. Niall took one home to Zayn, and even though they very rarely do much more than kiss and hold hands, Niall came in with three enormous hickeys on his neck and a dopey smile on his face.

 

“What are they?” Liam asks, picking one up and examining the small, heart shaped treat that Harry knows smells a bit like sweat and a bit like vanilla.

 

“Their just little cookies is all. Cookies made with vanilla extract and salt and bits of red pepper?” Harry offers, his knees buckling beneath the counter.

 

“Two of those, then, and maybe some of the green moss candies, too?” Liam asks, his eyes sparkling as he turns to regard Harry.

 

God, Harry’s never boxed anything up so fast in his life. 

 

“And the tea?” He asks, just willing Liam to leave. He likes the guy, he just gives him this intense feeling that he’s done something _wrong._

 

“Well, what do you have?” Liam is so at ease, so oblivious that Harry’s a sweating, nervous wreck.

 

“We have so much…well. What are you feeling right now?” Harry asks, a mischievous spark returning to his eyes despite his nerves.

 

“Happy. A little tired.” is what Liam offers him.

 

So Harry gets him the chai that makes the happiness blossom in his bones, and run its roots into your brain so overtime you drink it it keeps the happiness inside of you. He adds a touch of bamboo shoots into the mix, focusing hard so that his magic sputters and manages to sink some comfort into it, the silver duller than normal.

 

“There.” Harry says, returning, and Liam smiles as he begins to ring everything up.

 

“You’re forgetting something.” He says, in a low voice.

 

Harry feels like a deer in the headlights, his head snapping up.

 

“I am?” His voice is shaky on its legs, and he feels like he’s going to collapse.

 

“Can you get me something for Louis? Something he’ll like?”

 

So Harry’s off to the shelves again, and this time he knows exactly what to get. He grabs the one that smells like the ocean and tastes like a hint of vodka mixed with a whole lot of coconut and is supposed to soothe one’s consciousness. He doesn’t know why he picks it, but it just feels so… _Louis._ And when the heartbeat picks up in his ears, he knows he’s done well.

 

“What’s this? Does Louis even like coconut?” Liam scrunches his nose in disgust and Harry flinches. He didn’t mess this up, he didn’t, he couldn’t have. 

 

“That one is actually very good. Trust me.” He puts a hand lightly on Liam’s shoulder, feeling his sudden worry, and wonders if it’s because of him, if he suspects that Harry wants Louis in his room, in his arms.

 

“All right.” Liam shakes his head and Harry waits to ring everything up until Liam’s emotions return to…what he thinks is normal for Liam, sunshine and teddy bears.

 

When Liam walks out of the door, he takes a deep breath and yells after him.

 

“Liam! Tell Louis that…he can come and get some more stuff if he wants to?” Harry says, and when Liam turns, it feels like he’s looking right through him.

 

“Sure, Harry. Drinks on us, next time, yeah?” Liam’s eyes are starlight, and Harry almost cries.

 

“Yeah.” Harry hopes he means never again.

 

 

**To: Unknown Number**

**My hair isn’t that curly.**

**From: Unknown Number**

**Yes it is, Curly.**

**To: Unknown Number**

**My name is Harry.**

**From: Unknown Number**

**And my name is Louis.**

**From: Unknown Number**

**That tea was the best tea I’ve ever drank. Did you put alcohol in it?**

**To: Unknown Number**

**Yea, bit of vodka. You have good taste.**

**From: Unknown Number**

**Got good taste in friends too :) If I come by, will you give me stuff for free?**

 

Harry puts a hand to his lips, because one. Is Louis implying they are friends? And two. Is Louis implying free candy and tea or free something else? The heartbeat in him has gotten louder and louder and his whole body is practically rattling with it.

 

**To: Unknown Number**

**No way, Lou.**

**From: Unknown Number**

**Unfair :( you’re a selfish twit.**

**From: Unknown Number**

**Gotta go, Liam’s offering me these weird pink things he says are from you!! x**

 

Harry fucking stares at the ‘x’ and he throws his phone across the room. He really wishes Louis would stop playing with his heart. Harry roles into his pillow and bites his lip as the tears start to slide down his cheeks. 

 

Louis Tomlinson belongs to Liam. Harry can’t do anything about it. What he has to do now is get his magic back from Louis, figure out how to control it around Louis, and move away from the country. 

 

**To: Lou-bear**

**xx**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! The song for this chapter is Funeral of Hearts by HIM:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Ebeq8MTxKc
> 
> "When love is a gun, separating me from you."


	4. Am I To Blame If My Heart Is Restless?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for slightly violent language in this chapter. Harry finally discovers what Louis means to him, and what it could do to him.

3

**To: Nialler**

**Every night in my dreams, I see you, I feel you.**

**To: Nialler**

**That is how I know you, go on.**

**From: Nialler**

**Shut up with the Titanic, Harry.**

**To: Nialler**

**No, I’m serious. That’s what’s going on with me and Louis.**

**From: Nialler**

**HE’S CHEATING ON LIAM?!?!**

**To: Nialler**

**I WOULDN’T KNOW.**

**To: Nialler**

**He’s not doing it with me.**

**From: Nialler**

**Explain, Harry.**

**From: Nialler**

**Zayn’s clinging to me like a koala because he want’s to watch Titanic and it’s all YOUR fault!!**

**To: Nialler**

**I don’t really understand it…but I…feel a heartbeat in me that isn’t my own. And sometimes it’s incredibly strong or weak and…it gets worse when Louis is there and…?**

**To: Nialler**

**Just really confused and stuck**

**From: Nialler**

**Look, just check the bloody book, would you**

**From: Nialler**

**Zayn’s turned into Celine Dion, have to shut him up. Bye ;)**

**To: Nialler**

**It's a TOME!!**

 

Well. This time when Harry takes out the Tome of Shadows, he’s alone in his room, sitting on his bed, trying to spark his magic into doing something after so many hours of rest. 

 

When he opens the Tome to the middle, he sees a teardrop on the otherwise blank page, and shudders. 

This time when he delves in, he finds a paragraph, old, and withered and ancient, but readable. He bends closer, heedless of his magic moving restlessly around him. 

 

_When a witch’s magic is absorbed by a human, it means that it is the witches ‘To Be’. There will be multiple side effects of havinga ‘To Be’. The heart beat of the human will become clear to the witch, which may also lead to the witch fainting or getting woozy because their feelings for said human are too intense. A witches magic is attracted to the ‘To Be’ for various reasons, but mostly because they have in them a special personality which combats with the witches magic. For more on this, please search again._

 

Harry almost drops the Tome. He’s never heard of a ‘To Be’. What is it? Some sort of soulmate connection? 

 

Eagerly, he tries again.

 

_A ‘To Be’ is when a witch has found someone who they could spend a lifetime with, who they could love and treasure forever. If the ‘To Be’ loves the witch, all side effects of having a ‘To Be’ will vanish, and the two will be at peace. If it is not requited, however, the witch will suffer until they find a way to cast one of the dark rituals on themselves and free them of their torture. That, or they must find a way to make their ‘To Be’ love them; which is a extremely difficult task._

 

Harry sits up straight at that. What does that even mean, ‘the witch will suffer’? Which dark rite would he have to use? He blinks rapidly.

 

_Dark Rituals used to releasing oneself from a ‘To Be’ are not recommended. They are highly dangerous. A witch ought to somehow get their magic back from their ‘To Be’ and find another that is enamored of the witch themselves._

 

Harry slams his face on the Tome of Shadows and groans out loud. Two hours later when he surfaces again, there still is nothing on how to get ones magic back from their ‘To Be’. 

 

_Since the witch holding this book has insisted to see certain Dark Rituals that are off limits to those without a ‘To Be’, we present to them the list of Dark Rituals. Certain Dark Rituals on this list should be preformed with solid silver. The ‘To Be’ will not feel this ritual unless the witch has made intimate contact with them, then unless the love is unrequited, they shall share the same fate. If the love is requited, the witch in question would not be on this page._

 

  * _Ritual of Plants; Arsenic should be swallowed for two days, and then the witch should gointo the nearest forest. Lie down in a shallow grave about two feet, and wait for the rain. The rain will catch onto the witches magic and will come quickly, and will become one with the arsenic. The witches blood will boil and cause the witch to bleed out of the nostrils, mouth, ears, and eyes till it drowns from the poisonous blood._
  * _Ritual of Clouds: Witch should go to highest building they can find when there is a storm. Allow self to be hit by lightning, or jump off. When jumping, please summon moisture to fill the witches lungs. The witch will not hit the ground, but will be taken by the atmosphere._
  * _Ritual of Knives: Where a witch lies on a pentagram of it’s own blood, and slices oneself with a very sharp knife on the left and right side of it’s face, it will be no longer in between black and white magic and shall be taken by the black magic, which will drain the witch of its blood, and take its eyes for safekeeping._



 

 

That was around where Harry threw up all over his clean bed. 

 

No rituals, he decided shakily. 

 

If Louis was his To Be, he was going to win him or he was going to get his magic back.

 

Rituals would be a last option.

 

**From: Lou-Bear**

**Great candies, thanks Haz x**

**To: Lou-Bear**

**Welcome xx**

 

**From: Nialler**

**Don’t know if you’ve heard, but those candies you gave Liam and Louis…wow.**

**From: Nialler**

**Don’t know what you put in them, you made them both super horny.**

**From: Nialler**

**But apparently Zayn says their fighting?**

**To: Nialler**

**Shut up Niall.**

**To: Nialler**

**Don’t get my hopes up.**

**From: Nialler**

**Honest, m8? I’m not.**

**From: Nialler**

**Zayn went over and they were all shaky and glaring at each other.**

**To: Nialler**

**Had a shit day, really don’t want to talk about it, thanks.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: Bright Eyes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dNKLmCSm0hg
> 
> "Everything's out of control, in my future plans."
> 
> Fic post is here: http://habitbynight.tumblr.com/post/149146074384/try-refusing-a-million-times-but-youre-in-love


	5. Keep Your Glances Downcast, Keep Your Embrace Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good things happen! Or....do they?

5

Harry is shaken when he wakes up. It’s a Thursday, deep in October; he knows he has to get up, but all he wants to do is stay home, stay wrapped in his blanket that has astronomical signs on it and sink into oblivion. 

 

His mind whispers about _The Umbrella_ as Noriko hops onto his chest, purring and rubbing her nose into his curls. She’s been so patient while Harry’s been busy, and now he pulls her to him, cuddling her into his side and stroking her small, black head.

 

“We’re going to be just fine.” He whispers to her, his throat raspy from sleep, more for himself than for her. Still, she seems to agree, her tail batting at his stomach as if she can feel the heartbeat throbbing through his aching body.

 

Harry practically pulls himself out of bed, and rummages around in his closet, pulling on a long sleeved tan button down and a black coat over it, with white pants with black flowers on them, and a certain pair of blue sneakers that have archaic signs written on them in marker. Harry looks at them sadly as he slips them on. 

 

No matter how professional he tries to look, sometimes he just has to appeal to the inner kid inside him. Especially after Tome of Shadows shaking him so much that he goes pale whenever anyone mentions Louis. 

 

Louis hasn’t contacted him, and he’s grateful for it. Harry doesn’t think he could handle it at this time, not after what happened to him with the Tome. He simply doesn’t want to think about it, but the heartbeat is making it impossible. Liam also hasn't come back into the shop, but Zayn ans Niall have both seen him around; he seems giddy, and Harry doesn't want to wonder why.  

 

He swallows a Advil in hopes that today it will calm the nerves, calm the headache, calm his fears.

 

**To: Nialler**

**Will be late.**

**From: Nialler**

**Don’t be too late; I’ve checked, Louis isn’t loitering around a corner waiting to scare you.**

**To: Nialler**

**I’m not afraid of him.**

**From: Nialler**

**Weather you’re scared or not, come into work; have you been thinking up those new candy ideas?**

 

He groans, wiping his bleary eyes on his sleeve, and glancing at his index finger, sees the red nail polish is chipping away.

 

**To: Nialler**

**I’ll get on it as soon as I can.**

 

He doesn’t want Niall to know that he’s nervous about using his magic. He’s been practicing, late at night, when the moon is round and clear and jagged in the sky, his windows open so that the air flutters past his lavender curtains and into the room. His magic, fully summoned, lights up the room in strands and blobs, flooding his face with a silver glow prettier than the moon on the ocean. He breathes and he delves in. 

 

When he’s done playing around with a batch of honey and flower petal crisps or black licorice twists infused with golden flecks of cumin, he’ll surface. 

 

And then he stares at the ruined mess. He spends hour surfing the internet, looking for new ingredients; he’s got the recipes Niall wants,written down on yellowing paper in his slow, methodical handwriting. But he just can’t make them. And it scares him, more than he knows. 

 

He walks to work today, letting his feet carry him through the gentle October rain, letting one solitary drop of silver clear a path for him. He decides to walk through the park, and he risks a glance up at the autumnal leaves, feeling their crisp beauty in his lungs, and he takes a moment to savor it before walking on. 

 

Maybe he should make something with trees, tree leaves, or bark; maybe something with vines. Perhaps little vine sweets that curl around your tongue? Maybe he ought to make something with rainwater. 

 

 

He’s following his magic so closely, thinking about what he loves to do most, winding around people intently, that hejumps in shock when he bumps into someone. 

 

“Oh, excuse me, I’m so sorry..” is what he starts as he looks up…and then he stops.

 

His heart….it sinks down to the bottom of his stupid, childish sneakers. He suddenly feels very small as the man dressed in a black hoodie with a grey beanie,spattered with raindrops, black joggers, his fringe sticking out, his eyes narrowed. Harry almost faints when he catches a whiff of his breath; it smells like his tea. The special one Harry picked out for him.

 

“Watch where you’re going, why don’t you—Oh, Harry.” The angry voice fades as Louis, his ‘To Be’, realizes it’s him. Harry takes a moment to study him, taking in the way he smiles and his eyes crinkle and how his breathing has…accelerated. 

 

“Hello, Louis.” Harry manages, trying to stop his face from lighting up, but he can’t. He feels completely out of control.

 

“Well, fancy seeing you here! Don’t you have work?” Louis asks, his arms folded across his chest, the wind blowing his hair into his eyes, Harry’s own hair mirroring it as he tries to think.

 

What slips out is “I could be asking you the same thing.”

 

“Well, I simply wanted to play hooky today.” Louis retorts, his eyes twinkling as he looks at Harry. 

 

Harry suddenly wants to give him the moon, the sun, give him anything.

 

“Me too.” He breathes. Their so close, it’s painful. 

 

Harry’s heartstrings tug even harder, and he tries to ignore the rush of fondness that comes from Louis as he places a hand on his arm. Up close, he still smells like Gorgio Armani, and he can feel the tiredness in Louis, his fondness. 

 

Louis’ cheeky grin is blinding and deadly, and all Harry can think is that he’s been shot. 

 

“Would you care to perhaps, spend some of our day playing hooky…together?” There’s a challenge in Louis’ voice. Harry doesn’t want to say no. 

 

Louis edges forward. He quirks an eyebrow, and Harry feels sick when he smells Liam’s cologne on him.

 

“Cat got your tongue?” Louis purrs, his hand sinking down and grabbing Harry’s hand, his index finger curling around Harry’s. 

 

Harry can feel his magic simmering in Louis, twirling and singing, and it makes him bold.

 

“Louis. Don’t.” He says, pulling his hand away, feeling a frown grow on his face.

 

Louis steps back, his eyes innocent and blue, so blue.

 

“You’re too cheeky, Louis Tomlinson. I don't think I'd like to talk to you anymore." Harry says, the heartbeat growing slower in his ears, and he instantly regrets it. He's fucked everything up now, and he knows it. There's a moment where he wants to retract it, to apologize, but he feels the rain on his cheeks again the moment he looks away from Louis, and knows it's for the best if he's going to preform a ritual.

 

He intends to brush pass him, like a shadow, like fog, but a hand grabs his arm for the second time that day, a hand full of regret. 

 

Harry’s more than angry now, tired of being teased, tired of being tested, and he can feel his eyes going silver, so he doesn’t turn to look at Louis when he bites out,

 

“What is it, Louis?”

 

The voice that comes from behind him is soft, and gentle, and sincere.

 

“Harry…I’ve just been messing with you, and I’m sorry for that.” The hand disappears from his arm, and Harry turns, feeling calmer already.

 

“It’s wrong of me to flirt with you, and all of that. There’s no excuse. Can we be…can we be friends? Liam thinks you’re a good mate, and I’d like to be a good mate to you, too.” Louis says. 

 

His face is taunt, his eyes on guard, and Harry gets the feeling that Louis Tomlinson doesn’t let his guard down much. It makes Harry soften towards him. 

 

“All right.” Harry says, a small smile playing on his lips.

 

“Good.” Louis sighs, and his hand returns to his pocket. “So, how about playing hooky with me?”

 

Harry shakes his head, tucking his hair behind his ears.

 

“Can’t, got too much work.” For some reason, the heartbeat feels lighter, and so does Harry. 

 

“Maybe I’ll see you around the building then, eh?” Louis says, and he smiles lightly.

 

“Sure.” Harry lies. 

 

“All right. See you later.” Louis begins to jog backwards, his eyes fixed on Harry, boring through him.

 

“Yeah, later.” Harry says, and tries not to smile too fondly.

 

During work that day, he’s humming and he doesn’t realize it. Niall looks at him oddly, asks him about the recipes, and Harry gives them happily. The store smells like butter and sugar and a hint of fog and the forest, and Harry lets himself make teas instead today, and breaks out the stash of candy that he hid from Niall.

 

Niall invites Zayn for lunch, and they spend a hour sitting by each other while Harry makes tea for four old ladies and helps them pick accompanying candy, draining himself of energy and magic by putting small, pleasant emotions in their drinks.

 

Niall and Zayn watch him, Zayn’s hair loose and long and curling from the rain outside, Niall’s hand on his thigh, Zayn’s arm wrapped around him. They press eskimo kisses to each others necks and whisper sweet nothings until Harry forces cups of quietness and relaxation onto them, adding joy for Zayn and energy for Niall. 

 

When he gets home that night, he pulls Noriko onto his shoulder and parades around with her purring in his ear, putting on his Pavarotti as he makes pasta for himself and his kitty. 

 

“Ma il mio misterio è chiusi in me…” He belts, twirling himself around in a circle, his arms outstretched as he dances, his hips moving on their own. Harry looks ridiculous, but he doesn’t care. 

 

Before he falls asleep, he pulls out the Tome of Shadows. Breathing slowly, Noriko tucked into his side, he opens it to the middle and glances at the beautifully drawn heart on the page, the blood looking so realistic it could drip down the page.

 

Before today, Harry thinks, he could have gone out and away and preformed a ritual on himself. Now, however, things are bearable. 

 

He falls asleep, the moon lighting up the room, his curtains swaying in the cold night air, and Noriko asleep on Tome of Shadows.

 

_When friendship has been kindled between a witch and their ‘To Be’, the witch is given more time to woo their ‘To Be’ due to the ‘unreceptive To Be’ becoming seriously open to the witch. By becoming friends, the magic of said witch forces a passage through the whole body and brain of the human which will make it harder for the human to rid their brain of the witch. NOTICE: This does not mean that the witch is casting a love spell; it simply means that the bond of friendship has made emotions that were inaccessible earlier on to the human, such as lust, intrigue, and other such emotions have been lit within them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi ya'll! What do you think?
> 
> Song for this chapter is: Will I See You Tonight by Tom Waits.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ACxSHN4Xixw 
> 
> "Oh if I was the one you chose to be your only one."
> 
> Fic post is here: http://habitbynight.tumblr.com/post/149146074384/try-refusing-a-million-times-but-youre-in-love


	6. Look Over Here Just Once (I’m Right Here)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea party gone wrong.

6

When Harry stands at the edge of a waterfall, and feels the spray wafting into his eyes, or pokes his large toe into a puddle while the clouds are creaking into oblivion, or perhaps when the ocean froths and pulls at his hair, he feels safe. 

 

Nature is his haven, the place where he can be free of all obligations. Harry could be described as terrene. And he knows that if things start to go downhill again with Louis, that’s where he’ll go. Away, into the pine needles that brush hard against his skin, into the wispy plains of grass, down the long, winding rivers to the sea. 

 

But, as Niall and Zayn assure him as they lie on his couch early that Sunday, watching reruns of American Horror Story on the television, he has to be safe now because he and Louis are friends.

 

“It really can’t get much better, Harry.” Niall chirps, his arms wound around Zayn’s shoulders as Zayn stares at the telly, languid and somnolent from Harry’s new tea, cherry wood bark. 

 

“We both know that isn’t true,” Harry sighs, his hair full of bits of herb and caramelized sugar despite him having tied it back.

 

“Looking on the bright side, though, he’s your friend now!” Niall removes himself from Zayn, and comes to stand beside Harry, poking a finger into the bowl of white potato mash. 

 

“Don’t spoil the goods.” Harry tells him fondly, smacking his hand lightly. It’s never lovelier than when his best two mates come over, and they fill his home with emotions and brilliant ideas. Harry can feel the residue from his contact with Niall; spicy, daring, pleased. He’s pleased for Harry, he knows that Harry can work it out.

 

But, Harry thinks to himself as Niall returns to the couch and chokes Zayn with a bear hug, he’s not so sure himself that everything will be okay. He’s keeping himself on guard, the walls remaining high. His jugular vein is somewhat swollen now, and his veinsmust be kept constantly hydrated. He’s done research on this, too; keep everything cool so nothing gets too hot inside. But he stills feels like he’s boiling over.

 

Louis has texted him, twice, once about how things were, and the second on getting drinks, all five of them. Harry had said rain check to that one. 

 

Louis is firing his insides like a blowtorch, Louis is making him squirm in his sheets and he doesn’t know what to make of it. Tome of Shadows said that everything would be easier; instead, it’s amped itself up. Harry shakes his head, stray hair smacking his forehead. 

 

“ You know, Harry, Zayn was thinking that he was going to take a day or two off before All Hallows Eve?” Niall says, his tone turned suggestive.

 

Harry cocks an eyebrow, his hands never pausing to stop the sifting of salt over the potatoes, while the bowl of herbs lies unused at his side; orange, ginger, and lemon for this particular dish. 

 

“Is that so? For what reason?” He murmurs, barely lifting his eyes.

 

“Well, we were thinking…since business has been so well, Zayn could come help us with a special event!” The excitement is clear in Niall’s voice, and Harry begrudgingly sets his task down.

 

“And you weren’t planning on telling me?” He hums, stalking towards Niall, a sarcastic frown on his face. 

 

“Well, we were, we just didn’t have the decorations yet. And then Zayn was watching an episode of some sort of anime to get an idea for a poem, and he says to me, ‘why don’t we do a holiday café?’”

 

Niall sounds so pleased, and Zayn looks up from the television to smile at him with an aura of adoration.

 

“So, you want a Halloween themed cafe?” Harry asks, sinking down into the chair opposite them. “When, where, have we the finances, do—“

 

“Oh, stop worrying, Harry!” Niall leans forward, grabbing his Bud Light off the table and taking a swig. “We’ve got it all planned. If you make these easy enough recipes without too many _weird_ ingredients, and we set things up and make it spooky—“

 

“Spooky indeed,” Zayn adds charmingly, his brown eyes full of mirth and eagerness. 

 

“Yes, make it spooky, we can have our very first little gathering!” Niall finishes.

 

And that’s how they find themselves considering chocolate covered bacon pastries (despite Harry saying he can’t bake), and wasabi orange dots. Harry’s scribbling it down, frantic as Niall raves on and on, Zayn pointing out what’s unrealistic and what Harry actually likes to do before he spills into the ideaof frozen cherry slushies in blood bags. 

 

They work late into the night, and come up with a final list, complete with horrifically cheesy names thanks to the poet: Ghostly, their punch of kiwi and mint with the color drained out, Hot cider with a twist of rum(classic, that), Carved water melon skulls frosted with cherry syrup and made out of caramel, pumpkin and licorice hard candies, and the finale, their newest recipe of finely crafted fondant covered with a thin layer of caramel, dusted with curry powder, topped with strawberries and a sauce of chocolate mousse. 

 

Niall thinks the last one sounds disgusting, and wants chocolate-chip cookies instead, but Zayn slugs him in the shoulder.

 

“This is possibly the dullest recipes I’ve ever made, Niall, so chin up for the blandness.” is all Harry says before Noriko bats the list out of his hands and they spend the rest of the evening chasing her back and forth across the apartment.

 

When they leave, Harry collapses on his couch, pulling his phone out. To his surprise, there’s a text from Louis.

 

**From: Lou-Bear**

**Drinks later this week, Haz?**

 

Harry smiles to himself, just a slight quirk of the lips, and reaches for his glass of water.

 

**To: Lou-Bear**

**You don’t know when to give up, do you? :)**

**To: Lou-Bear**

**Can’t, we’re having All Hallows Eve at** **The Umbrella.**

**From: Lou-Bear**

**Can Liam and I come?**

 

Harry hesitates. He and Louis are friends, he reminds himself, but when he sits up to turn off the television, his jugular vein pulses, quick and heated, and he groans, falling back. He doesn’t have the time to make these decisions. He needs to get his magic back; that’s always been the main purpose of being friends with Louis, right?

 

He stumbles into the bathroom, turning on the bathtub, yanking the cold water all the way on. Noriko sits on the door threshold, watching him strip of his clothing, calmly licking her paw.

 

The water sloshes up to his neck, the beating subsiding. He sinks under the water, trying to hold his breath so the heartbeat stops. But even when he’s gasping for air and shivering, it pounds onto him, and he doesn’t know what he was thinking. 

 

He can’t be friends with Louis, he’s trying to deceive both Louis and himself that their just going to be mates. It’ll work for now, but later, when things are heating up in the relationship that he isn’t part of, it’s just going to get worse.

 

When he gets out of the bath, skin tinged blue, there’s a small bruise on the side of his jugular vein. 

**To: Lou-Bear**

**Up to you. We’d like to have you.**

 

 

It was Niall’s decision to go to the party store the night before, so they walk, the wind whipping their ears till their chapped, and when they get in, everyone just wants hot cocoa.

 

But Niall insists they can get it later, and with a loud cheer, he bursts off into the store, scanning each and every aisle. By the time Harry and Zayn have fondly exchanged glances and have grabbed small party favors and the like, he’s got an armload of stupid masks and orange feather boas and glitter…lots of glitter.

 

“Niall, babe, we don’t need half that much glitter!” Zayn scoffs, but Niall scowls at him.

 

“We most certainly do. We also all need costumes!” Niall says, holding up a Batman mask, a Joker mask, and a cat mask. Harry rolls his eyes; of course, with his luck, he’d be the cat.

 

“No masks.” Zayn says firmly, and Niall rolls his eyes so hard Harry can feel them moving in his own skull.

 

“Fine. But all the more glitter then!” He cheers, dropping the masks unceremoniously, and grabbing Zayn by the hand. Off they go. skittering down the aisles again, Zayn laughing after him, his hair tousled by the wind and his cheeks tinged by more than just the sudden heat. 

 

Harry’s left to himself to pick up small black cat stuffed animals and little ghosts to hang to the ceiling, and from time to time he hears Niall’s loud laughter and once a crash, and of course they appear with kiss stained lips.

 

Harry loves them dearly, but he wishes they wouldn’t mess around when they have so much work to do. He insists on paying for everything, because he’s simply that nice. 

 

Hours later, when the wind has died down and the stars have come out, _The Umbrella_ is more than perfectly decorated. Wisps of black curtain cover the doorway, small stuffed black cats sit in every seat, the food lies covered in cling wrap, Zayn set up little poems at each place, and Niall has the music ready to go…including The Monster Mash which is the one Harry dreads. 

 

They are completely ready. Yet there’s a tingling in him, making Harry feel uneasy as Zayn and Niall smack matching kisses on his cheek and walk out the door. 

 

As he closes up the shop, He thinks it must be because of Louis, whose heartbeat is thudding through his bones by now, and he wonders if it’s growing stronger out of anticipation of seeing him. He lets himself text once he’s back home, thinking Louis won’t answer because it’s so late. He’s wrong of course. 

 

**To:Lou-Bear**

**Are you ready for tomorrow?**

**From: Lou-Bear**

**Of course, Haz; who do you think I am?**

 

Harry has to bite his tongue to stop from saying ‘only the most wonderful person I’ve ever set eyes on.’

 

**To: Louis**

**Someone who has a lot to do and shouldn’t be making time for us**

**From: Louis**

**Nonsense. It’ll be like a special date for Li and I!**

**To: Louis**

**Of course.**

 

That serves to make Harry feel worse, if that was possible. He goes to his fridge, taking the ice out, and throws it into the bathtub.

 

It takes hours to warm back up from his ice bath, which was stronger than usual tonight, and so he walks into work fatigued, the circles under his eyes made darker by the slight bit of black eyeliner around them.

 

But when he walks in, feeling spiffy in his blue tie of green vines and blue flowers hanging off of his white shirt, black slacks and tan shoes, his tiredness only worsens for Liam is standing by Niall, his arm around his shoulders, whispering into his ear. 

 

Liam looks more handsome than ever in the early morning light flooding through the windows, and for some reason, Harry can suddenly feel his own heartbeat growing faster.

 

When Niall looks at him, his eyes are so full of sadness that Harry’s stomach twists.

 

“I don’t mean to intrude, but what’s going on?” is all he says, sticking to it simply.

 

Liam’s arm drops off Niall’s shoulder, and he strides towards Harry, arms outstretched. It feels as if there is a million miles between them before he gets there and his body closes in, arms wrapping around the leaner man’s frame.

 

Instantly, Harry feels _love._ It spreads through his body, enflamed by excitement, and it burns a hole inside Harry’s throat. He can’t speak, no matter how he tries. So he brings his arms up and hugs Liam for a moment before stepping away, his nose singed from the after-emotion of nervousness. 

 

“I’ve…you don’t mind, Harry, if I…do something special here today in your shop?” Liam’s voice is raw and earthy and Harry snaps back to reality.

 

“Well, what did you have in mind?” He asks, his eye drifting away from Liam’s warm, tan face to where Niall stands, his face drained ever more so of blood than usual, Zayn’s arms wrapped around him. They both look so distraught that Harry thinks that it’s palpable.

 

“I…want to propose to Louis today, if that’s all right, I mean, I don’t want to make a scene in the shop, but it’s Louis favorite holiday, since Christmas is so close to his birthday—“ Liam begins, but the roar of blood in Harry’s ears blocks him out. 

 

He doesn’t remember getting back to his flat. He doesn’t remember the slight trail of blood that trickles from his eyes. He just remembers his computer, open, and Noriko digging her claws into his arm as she attempts to keep her balance, stuffing Tome of Shadows into his carry on bag, and his suitcase flung across the room so he can get to the door faster.

 

This is it. He knows what he has to do now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this Chapter: Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fWyzwo1xg0
> 
> Fic post is here: http://habitbynight.tumblr.com/post/149146074384/try-refusing-a-million-times-but-youre-in-love


	7. 7: Don’t Misunderstand me (I’m a Wandering Cloud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry leaves. Everyone flips. He finds a home.

Chapter 7: Don’t Misunderstand me (I’m a Wandering Cloud)

 

What Harry Styles, witch, doesn’t understand is that he’s seated in a cramped seat in the back of a very small plane, his legs tucked too tightly over each other in the small space, Noriko asleep inside his coat. 

 

What he does understand is the way he keeps gasping, the ticket clutched in his hand, the roar of Louis’ heartbeat overtaking him so that it feels like they are physically connected. He feels shorter, he feels smaller, he feels as if he could be the most magnificent being in the world.

 

But that won’t happen. Because Harry Styles is loosing his To Be to another man, and it’s hurting him more than anything that could ever happen.

 

His phone is off, but he can feel the tension draining from it, into his knees from where it sits in his pocket. 

 

He’s thinking somewhere green, with pine trees and frost, with an abandoned log cabin. Yes, that he could do. And hopefully, that’s where this plane is taking him. 

 

What he gets, instead, is hours of standing in line at the Toyota Counter to get a car, Noriko hopping out of his coat and wandering around to find food, hence being chased by security and he finds her outside regally on top of a lamppost. 

 

When he finishes driving for two or three hours, it’s eight in the morning and his eyes are aching. He promises himself he won’t fall asleep, and he doesn’t, just focuses on the winding black asphalt. 

 

When he pulls over, it’s to a ‘Edwards Estate’ sign. He tells the secretary he’s looking to rent for about three months, and in return is practically shoved back outside to where apeppy sales clerk is standing. 

 

The weather is biting here, already, and the trees are barren. He feels more at peace with the cold than ever, because it stops the throbbing. He hopes the sales clerk doesn’t see the red spots appearing on his jugular vein.

 

“Hi! I’m Perrie!” is all she says, free hand extended as she steps towards him. She’s breathtaking, all sorts of silver in the dark morning, her silver parka unzipped to reveal a grey sweater and black jeans, her blonde hair wavy and flowing down her shoulders.

 

“‘M Harry.” He replies, grasping the proffered hand gently, and wincing when a zap of energy and friendliness goes through him. It reminds him of Louis.

 

“So, you wanted…let’s see.” She skims down the list he’d checked off and grins. “Something remote, small, cheap…I think we can do that.”

 

They get back into his car, driving off back they way they’d come. Perrie is a burst of silver moon beams, her chatter filling the car, Noriko curling up on her lap.She tells Harry she’s lived in Maine for most of her life, and that she’s working on opening her own estate business ( “This one is my fathers’). 

 

They drive for an hour or so, Perrie asking him where he’s from and why he’s come to Maine when the tourist season has obviously ended, and he can’t answer her that. 

 

They turn off the main road onto a winding, long dirt road, encased by pine trees and large oak trees. Perrie turns businesslike, her shoulders suddenly straight and her hands clasped in her lap as she speaks.

 

“This cabin was built in the late 1970s, but it looks more modern. It’s small, only four or five rooms, with one bedroom with a double bed, one bath with a bathtub, kitchen, living room with television and the laundry room.It’s parallel with a lake that’s turned rather swampy in the past few weeks, so I’d recommend staying out of there if you don’t want to get bitten by snakes.”

 

Harry parks the car in front of possibly the smallest, darkest looking place he’s ever seen. Despite everything being in order, no windows broken, nothing rotting, he can see that it’s run down and unused by the cobwebs in the window. 

 

“Shall we go in and take a look?” Perrie asks, suddenly anxious as she opens the door, Noriko hopping off her lap and darting into the bushes. 

 

Harry nods, and climbs out himself.

 

What he smells is salt; it’s loneliness, tiredness, desolation and yet warmth and hope. It’s perfect, down to the murky lake water lapping at the roots of trees where a small path leads down to the water; the cobwebs in the windows, the pine trees swaying above. The rowboat that’s been dragged onto land with the dusty lantern inside reminds him of Moby Dick. It’s everything he could have asked for.

 

They explore the house, Perrie fussing over the cobwebs, and bemoaning the dust. It’s quaint, more Western than anything else; strange, for a cabin to be thus in Maine. It’s small, yes, with a faint smell of salt, but it’ll do. The blankets are rough, but solid. The kitchen cramped, but clean and Perrie says the town an hour away will supply him with everything he needs.

 

Harry smiles at that; the land will provide more for him, what with all the plants around here. But yes, food would be good to get…and matches and candles, he thinks as he remembers Perrie telling him there’s little electricity and it would be better used on charging his phone.

 

They drive back to the Estate; by now it’s nearing 11 o’clock, and his eyes are fluttering shut. He signs the papers groggily, and thanks Perrie wholeheartedly, taking her number in case there are ‘any emergencies’.

 

He stops to buy candles, rope, matches…he buys food too, sushi for later and a lot of ramen, and a whole lot of baking supplies as well as some beef until he can catch fish. He picks up cat food, too.

 

When he arrives back home, Noriko is sitting in the open doorway, the October breeze having blown the door open. Leaves are stuck in her fur and he picks them out as he yawns his way inside, shutting the door firmly, but opening all the windows. 

 

The lake on the shore and the trees up above lull him to sleep. He doesn’t dream about Louis, but when he wakes up, there are long, thin lines on his throat where the aching is. He’s starting to scratch at it.

 

He checks his phone: there are 12 missed messages from the past two days.

 

**From: Nialler**

**Harry, come back, please.**

**From: Nialler**

**Harry, the partyis in full swing, we need you, lad!**

**From: Nialler**

**The party went just fine.**

**(1 missed call from Nialler)**

 

**From: Nialler**

**Harry? M8? Where are you? It’s been hours since we last saw you.**

 

**(1 missed call from Zayn, 2 missed calls from Nialler)**

 

**From: Zayn**

**We checked your apartment, Harry, and we checked Louis’ and then Liam’s. Where are you?**

 

**(1 missed call from Unknown Number)**

 

**From: Unknown Number**

**Harry, it’s Liam.Not sure what I did to upset you, but everyone’s worried, can you answer your phone, please?**

 

And his heart seizes when he sees the last one.

 

**(3 missed calls from Louis)**

 

**From: Louis**

**Went to the party, you weren’t there, where were you? Missed a hell of a time x.**

**From: Louis**

**Where are you, Harry? I’m worried sick; everyone is.**

**From: Louis**

**Answering your fucking phone Harry!!!**

**From: Louis**

**HARRY?**

 

It is only then that he allows himself to cry, angrily, into the rough sheets. He cries and cries and cries, pressing his hand to his jugular vein as if it will dull the screaming pain there. 

 

He dials Niall’s number faster than he can blink, sniffling, knowing full well how much Niall will hate him for leaving him in his hour of need at _The Umbrella._ Harry’s heart tightens; he left his shop, he left his work, he left his friends, because of someone he can never be with. Their all going to be better off. 

 

“What?” Niall’s voice is sleep-mussed, and it gives Harry a quiver, because he can hear the distraught hidden behind the layers of sleep.

 

“Niall.” He cries into the phone, letting the sobs rack out of him.

 

“Harry, where are you?” He can hear Niall sitting up, shoving atthe sheets, and scrambling out of bed. “Let me come get you, please, Harry.”

 

A little late for that, Niall. Niall, I’m so sorry, please, tell everyone that I am so, so sorry.” He fists his hands in the sheets, the tears blotting the sheets.

 

“Where are you?!” Niall yells, and Harry flinches.

 

“Maine, I’m in Maine, and I don’t want to be disturbed. I definitely don’t want Louis talking to me.”

 

“But Harry, Liam proposed and—“

 

“No! I don’t want to hear it!” 

 

He drops the phone, let’s it talk to itself, and he walks outside, away from it all, sinking into the frosty grass and letting nature heal him.

 

He's not going to be okay if they keep calling him. He'll be okay out here, maybe. By himself. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this is: Fade to Black By Metallica: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEQnzs8wl6E
> 
> Harry's Cabin: http://all-the-whispers.tumblr.com/post/119748979463/lifestyles-dylan-furst-photography http://jr1ng.tumblr.com/post/86081479222


	8. The One, Whose Head Is In The Shadow Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic, finally. Also! Friends, because zrry on tumblr somehow added this to her masterpost (thank you!) I will take this time to remind you that this fic is NOT in fact 13k, it is in progress. The fic post is here (http://habitbynight.tumblr.com/post/149371967864/habitbynight-try-refusing-a-million-times-but). I post updates on there, and reblog it every time I add a chapter.

It’s snowing when he wakes up. Small, pure flakes that catch on his hair and melt into his ripped black jeans, small flurries blowing into the dark and cold cabin through the open windows. Noriko’s curled up by his legs, almost completely covered with snow, and he sees her eyes glistening at him in the dim grey light. 

 

“Sorry, love.” he greets, reaching out and brushing the snow off of her with tired and shaking hands. He can feel the blood pooling out of his neck, just a small trickle where Louis’ heartbeat is banging against his skin, trying to escape. 

 

When Noriko is dry, he goes through the cabin, lighting a small candle in each room, and firmly shutting the windows. He sweeps the snow outside, leaving it to blow away in the wind, but he lets the most persistent cold stay in the rooms, not making a fire to heat the cabin up.

 

Noriko he wraps in a blanket with a Navajo pattern on it (honestly, where did all these Western artifacts come from?) and tells her to stay put. He sets out food and water for her, and then he steps into the bathroom.

 

In the mirror, he looks more than haggard, his eyes shaded by various shades of purple from disrupted sleep, his lips drained of blood, his hair dirty and uncombed. 

 

Then, his neck. There’s blood there, ocher red and drying. It looks as though someone tried to cut away from the inside at it, small bits of flesh hanging in a tangled mess.

 

He wipes it clean as best he can, and puts a band aid on it that he finds in a dusty box underneath the sink. Harry hopes it’ll help, and that it will hold.

 

He finds his lipstick in his bag, and he applies it as gingerly as he can, the deep maroon standing out against his skin. He brushes his hair with his fingers, shaking it out as it tumbles down his shoulders.

 

When he’s fully naked, he takes the key that Perrie gave him, and he wanders through the house. On his way he takes Tome of Shadows, as well as a candle and matches.

 

The boat has a light dusting of snow on it, and Harry shivers as he cleans it off. The lantern is next to be cleaned, and the candle lit and placed inside. It makes a pretty sight, and he sighs with content as he stares at it.

 

 

He takes ahold of the boat, and pulls it down to the water, the pine trees whispering their secrets to him as he strains over their roots, rocking the boat to get it over the larger ones. He slips, once or twice, his skin turning ever paler, the Tome of Shadows clasped under his armpit.

 

The boat is tipsy and uneven, he notes, as he shoves it into the water, grabbing it at the last minute by the frayed rope. 

 

Before he steps in, he realizes that he isn’t going to need the Tome right now, so he runs back up the hill, shoving it under the awning of the cabin before slipping and sliding his way back down.

 

Then, he steps into the boat. It’s cold and rough under his feet, but it can hold him and won’t break. 

 

Shoving off from shore, he takes ahold of the ancient oar. and struggling to push himself into the water, he finally starts using it like he would a kayak paddle, switching back and forth as he paddles through the weeds and out into the clear, dark water that hasn’t frozen over and is as black as the night and as blue as the feathers of a raven.

 

All in all, it’s so dark, he can’t see anything when he looks down. That scares him.

 

“What am I doing out here?” Harry asks himself, and then the throbbing reminds him. There’s no other way to describe it but needing relief from a incredible bullet wound in your neck.

 

He lowers himself into the water, knowing full well that the boat could drift away any moment, but all thought of that is banished when his extremities touch the water.

 

“Oh, fuck, bugger, that is so cold.” He hisses, seeing his dick shrink back into itself. But he continues into until he’s dangling off the side of the boat, his hair brushing the water.

 

As a last resort, he reaches his trembling fingers into the boat again and grabs the rope, which he knots around his ankle. When he swims a few paces, the boat follows him. 

 

It’s close enough that it won’t vanish, but far enough that it won’t disturb him.

 

Harry closes his eyes and leans back, letting the freezing water cradles him in its embrace, letting the fear of death wash away from him as the water touches him, its touch conveying silence and darkness, but life and sound at the same time. It breathes into him, and bites him, sliding over him in rippling waves. 

 

When he feels the first touch, he doesn’t allow himself to flinch, but he does open his eyes, to stare at the snow falling onto him, covering him as if he were just a log floating in the water. His hair is weighing him down, and the tug is coming from there, as if there were a hand grabbing onto his hair. 

 

His hair, brown underneath his head, floats as tendrils do, sliding together like strands of seaweed. It curls into his hair and then it slides around his neck, it’s body curling around his throat like a vice. 

 

He can feel the air being cut off, very slowly, but he forces himself not to choke. He forces himself not to think, to let the pleasure and the pain overcome him. The hardest part is coming, that was what the Tome said. 

 

The second one chooses to slide up his torso, and when he blinks, it appears in front of his face, it’s reptilian face sneering at him as it flicks it’s tongue out to taste his scent.

 

Harry has never been the biggest fan of snakes, ever since he read the second Harry Potter book with that giant snake. It had made him cry when the movie had come out. But now, with the green snake looking down at him as the rest of it’s body wrapshis legs, he feels calmer.

 

The third snake is the largest and the blackest. It takes his torso after the other snake goes back to his legs. It wraps around his arms that he has remembered to cross just in the nick of time before it slides across them, and he is effectively tied up, causing him to sink.

 

He remembers, as he sinks, the oxygen being cut off from the coils of the first snake, his legs numbing as the second snake tightens, and his arms held loosely in the embrace of the third snake, that he used to love to tie othersup before he gained his powers. But that was before.

 

Now, he relishes in the burn of the ropes. He relishes in being helpless, for once, because he is never truly helpless. He has his magic. 

 

They sink, until the rope on his foot catches them. They lie suspended for a few moments before his body tilts, going from diagonal to vertical, the shadow of the boat over them, and Harry can make out the snow hitting the water far, far above, in the grey light. 

 

It is in this moment that the first snake begins to inject it’s venom into him,sinking it’s teeth into the bandaid, through the torn flesh, and into his bloodstream. Harry feels the prick, but nothing else. He can see his blood floating out into the dark, dark water by squinting his eyes.

 

The second snake chooses his upper thighs, but it does not inject venom. It bites, again and again, small bites that have him writhing as he feels the bruises developing on his legs.

 

His oxygen is almost three fourths of the way gone when the last snake sinks it’s fangs into his forehead. That one is the worst. 

 

He screams, the air swarming out of his lungs and clustering together as it floats upward, the sharp spike of pain in his brain multiplying as the snake draws its fangs out excruciatingly slowly.

 

When they release him, he has to pull himself up through the water by the rope and he can barely stand. He drops into the bottom of the boat, breathing heavily. 

 

There will be bruises around his neck, he thinks as he coughs up water, snorting it out of his nose. There will be huge bruises on his legs. There will be a wound in his forehead, and a wound in his neck, but that doesn’t matter.

 

What matters is that Louis’ heartbeat has stopped.

 

His own heart feels like it’s beating too quickly, like he’s just run a marathon. He aches, he aches everywhere, and all he wants, wants, wants, is Louis.

 

He knows that time is reality. But if there was no time, and no reality, what would become of him? 

 

The heartbeat comes back after two hours, and Harry screams the loudest he has ever screamed in his life as it rips through his brain with a intending ferocity. He doesn’t make it back to the cabin for three days and two nights, the boat beaching itself on the other side of the lake. He walks back, stumbling, his feet bleeding from stepping on stones. 

 

But when he does, when he opens the door, he can feel that something has changed. But his feet tumble out from under him: the lack of water, food, all the blood he’s lost, and Louis.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: You Still Believe in Me by The Beach Boys.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b5C5JoVqS9g
> 
> Tell me what you think?


	9. Different Tongues, Different Languages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You all knew this was going to happen, eventually.

 

Harry wakes up crying. He wakes up cold. He wakes up with the intent to finish this.

 

He’s sore, he’s raw, as he drags himself to his feet and shuts the door, Noriko winning around his legs. He looks down at her, golden eyes winking in the light, and picks her up, kissing her on the forehead. 

 

“You’ll go be with Perrie, when I’m gone, won’t you? Or Niall…you know how to find him.” Harry murmurs, and he feels Norikos saddened response when he brushes his nose with hers. 

 

He sets out food for her, moving stiffly and slowly, pulling on a pair of his jeans, wincing as it goes over his leg wounds. Glancing in the bathroom mirror, covered by dust as it is, he sees a paler, a more weakened, a less wonderful version of himself, and he breathes out a sigh.

 

He spends the morning sweeping out the cabin, cleaning it, allowing himself to start a fire to warm himself, one last time. He places the candles he bought in bottle and cups, taking time to watch them glimmer in front of his eyes.

 

When he picks up his phone, he sighs inwardly, sitting cross legged in front of the fire. It feels more than heavy in his hand. It feels deadly. 

 

**From: Nialler**

**Please come home.**

 

**From: Zayn**

**We miss you, Harry.**

**From: Zayn**

**Things aren’t the same without you.**

 

**From: Nialler**

**You need to come home. Louis is going crazy.**

 

Harry cracks a smile at that. He knew, in some sort of bitter way, that Louis would be needing him in some ironical way, perhaps to help with the wedding things, and he rolls his eyes. Louis will always be Louis, no matter how much he hurts Harry, and that’s only fair.

 

**To: Nialler**

**Sure he is.**

 

**To:Zayn**

**Miss you too, but this has to be done.**

 

As always, the blood roars to his head and to his heart when he sees Louis’ name on the screen.

 

**From: Louis**

**So where exactly are you?**

 

Harry doesn’t think it’ll hurt if he tells him, perhaps just a hint.

 

**To: Louis**

**Around Maine. Bought a cabin.**

 

The answer comes quicker than he thought it would, as if Louis was waiting for him.

 

**From: Louis**

**Maine, huh?**

**From: Louis**

**Been talking to Niall.**

**To: Louis**

**Why?**

**From: Louis**

**Because I needed to know.**

**To: Louis**

**Know what?**

**From: Louis**

**If you love me or not.**

 

Harry blinks. That’s unexpected. Of course he does, but why would Louis ask him that? The heartbeat springs into action, ragged, rough, raw. 

 

**To: Louis**

**Course I do, you didn’t need to ask Niall.**

**To: Louis**

**We’re mates, aren’t we?**

 

 

His blood runs cold, when Louis stops answering. Why would he spring that on him, and then stop speaking to him?

 

**From: Nialler**

**Please, please Harry. We need you back here.**

**From: Nialler**

**There’s something going on, and we can’t handle it without you.**

**To: Nialler**

**I’m not coming back, Nialler.**

 

He throws the phone across the room, anger coursing in his veins. They don’t understand, and Louis is playing with him again. 

 

He takes Tome of Shadows in his hands, turning it over and over, and delves into his magic once more. For one of the last times. He cannot let his friends, his To Be, persuade him. This must be done.

 

_Ritual of Love: Once the witch has completed the Ritual of Snakes, purifying them, they will be allowed to take on this certain ritual. They shall go out, into the wilderness, wearing clothing, bringing with them candles placed in bottles that were rolled in the waters of the world. They shall light these candles, and they will place them around them in the shape of a crescent moon. Once they do so, they will sit, cross-legged, arms behind the back. The witch will commence breathing in a slow rhythm, letting the heartbeat of their To Be overtake them. The heartbeat will eventually suffocate them, and they will turn to dust._

 

Harry lets out a shaky breath. It’s much less violent than the other rituals, but letting Louis’ heartbeat suffocate him sounds the most torturous of all.

 

He sleeps, curled around his cat, ignoring the crackling of the fire as it dies down.

 

When he awakes, the day is rainy, and he wonders if this is the right ritual for him. But he already has the bottles, and he takes them, and the candles, and prepares to leave, giving Noriko instructions, cuddling with her, telling her he loves her to death. She blinks, somberly, at him, and purrs in his arms.

 

He writes his will, his spidery handwriting scratching on the paper, telling Niall that he has full ownership to the shop, to find another witch (he recommends Nick). He tells Zayn that he can have the cabin as a getaway if he wants, and all of Harry’s personal belongings, like clothes and the like. Liam he leaves the recipe for those pink candies.

 

Louis is harder, but Louis he leaves a note, saying “All my love. H x”. Because he knows that Louis will understand.

 

 

Walking to the door is hard: he’s afraid, he’s tired, he’s shaking. But he pulls it open nonetheless. 

 

The rain pelts him, soaking the tan shoes he's wearing, dribbling onto his black jeans, dripping onto his hair. 

 

He walks through the rain, into the pine forest, letting it cover him, and he shivers at the smell of pine. It reminds him of Louis’ stubble, the rain reminds him of his eyes, everything, everything is Louis.

 

Therefore, what else could be the point in the world, if love is absent and the flower of death is welcoming with arms? 

 

When the rain pauses, he sets up the bottles, and the candles, arranging the small wildflowers around them. Yet when he goes to light them, he notes with a start that there are no matches. 

 

Ambling through the woods, he can hear the rain starting again, and realizes he has to hurry. So he runs, his long legs pumping, his hair flying off his shoulders. 

 

But he stops when he emerges from the woods, his eyes seeing through the downpour, more than a vague form, but a form he knows by heart. And he skitters onto the road, stopping about ten feet from where they stand, their head uncovered, an umbrella by their side, dressed in a blue suit that looks eerily familiar to him.

 

Louis Tomlinson’s heartbeat is bursting in his ears when Louis turns to him and smiles, the sun shining out of him, and clearing the world away.

 

A million questions are spinning in his head, but that is when the loss of blood catches up to him, and he falls, the wet rocks his only cushion, before the darkness overcomes him, blue eyes echoing and a shout lingering in his ears, sweeter than the morning sunrise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter: There is a Light That Never Goes Out--The Smiths (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhlKpn7XYYk).


	10. This Beauty of Mine is Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

Chapter 10: This Beauty of Mine is Magic

 

His eyelids are glowing with the heat of the warmth that’s in front of him, with the crackle of the fire in his ears. They feel hot and heavy and his eyelids feel almost singed; he’s way too close to the fire. 

 

Wriggling his fingers around and keeping his eyes closed, he can feel that there are bandages on his feet, and some sort of soothing lotion on his neck where the bruises are, a shirt of some sort covering his chest and a pair of pants on. He feels cared for, and relaxed. 

 

When he does open his eyes, it’s to see Louis, wearing joggers and a white t-shirt that clearly belongs to Harry, crouched over the fire poking at it with a stick, Noriko sitting and watching him attentively.

 

Louis looks tired, but he also looks golden and soft, hair damp from…a shower? Rain? Harry has no idea how long he’s been out. And he could honestly care less, it’s enough to see that Louis is here…but why? 

 

All of a sudden, he has a million questions flooding his mind. It’s a struggle to sit up, but he manages, his hair falling down over his shoulders.

 

“Lou…” he croaks, his throat parched and raw but Louis turns to him, eyes warm and worried, and rushes to him, his bare feet slapping the floor as he leans over Harry.

 

Harry feels all his breath go out of him when Louis places his hand on his chest, burning him through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, gently pressing him back onto the couch.

 

“Shh,” Louis whispers, his pink mouth all too close, and Harry is suffering.

 

“Why?” is all he can ask, as Louis sinks to his knees besides the couch, his hand finding its way from Harry’s chest to his hair, carding through it. Harry tries to focus on his question, his confusion, but it’s hard when Louis is touching his hair so gently that he may melt.

 

“There’s a lot of answers to that one, Haz.” Louis replies, his voice gentle, his eyes tender. 

 

“Pick one.” Harry asks, turning his head to see Louis better, baring his throat. 

 

“Well, for one, because Liam proposed.”

 

Harry closes his eyes, frowning. That doesn’t make any sense. 

 

“But also, because I was worried about you, because…you’re my friend.” Louis says, and Harry feels him shrug. His magic twinges, gets a glimpse of the affection that’s warming Harry’s hair from Louis’ hand.

 

“But Haz…listen. C’mon.” Louis’ voice is closer now, speaking directly into the shell of his ear, his hand resting on his hair still.

 

“ ‘M listening, Lou, spit it out.” Harry groans, his fingers twisting around the blanket. 

 

“You’re more than just a friend to me, if you haven’t been able to tell.” 

 

Harry’s breath, once more, is knocked out of him, and he blinks, eyes opening to stare at Louis’ fond ones, feeling the heated, intense pulsating affection from Louis’ hand.

 

“Lou, stop teasing.” Harry whispers, knowing his face is flushed from more than the fire. 

 

“I’m not teasing you, Harry. I know you thought I was, when I was with Liam, but you and I both know he wasn’t right for me.” Louis’ eyes are ripping into him, flooding him like a tsunami.

 

“Lou, what are you saying?” Harry can barely make his lips form the words, he’s frozen inside, his magic is screaming inside him.

 

“Harry, I said no to Liam.” 

 

“But Louis, you’d been together for three months, he wanted to marry you!” Harry struggles against him, trying to sit up, but Louis’ stronger than he is and he’s pressing on his chest, firmly.

 

“Harry, it’s because it’s you I want. From the moment I saw you, from the moment I snapped at you because I was late,from the moment we touched…it’s cheesy and sappy, I know, but it’s more than true.” 

 

“But…Liam?” Harry asks, feeling Louis’ heartbeat in his ears, in his body. It’s too good to be true.

 

“Liam understands. He always understands.” Louis’ emotions fade, the affection, the lust, turning to a slight sadness. 

 

Harry sits up, leaning on one elbow, his body angled towards Louis. His hand, devoid of rings, trembles as he moves it toward Louis’ cheek. He expects him to flinch, to turn away, but he does no such thing, his eyes looking steadily into Harry’s as Harry touches his cheek, lightly. 

 

Harry starts when Louis grabs his hand and presses it to his cheek, the way his eyes flutter closed as Harry’s large hand cradles his face. Harry stares at him, eyes wide. He wants to kiss him more than anything.

 

“Harry?” Louis asked, his eyes still closed as he practically nuzzles into his hand.

 

“Yes, Lou?” Harry responds, his voice cracking on the ‘ou’, his whole body aflame. 

 

“Are you going to say you reciprocate my feelings or not?” Louis’ eyes open, and it feels like Harry just fell head over heels for him all over again, curt sassiness and all.

 

“Lou, you know I already do.” Harry breathes, trying to lean in, but his body is tired, so tired.

 

“Well, why aren’t you kissing me then?” Louis demands, his eyebrows furrowing.

 

Harrys mind flashes back to a particular passage in Tome of Shadows. He nods, slowly, and leans back, letting his hand slip from Louis’ grasp, away from his stubble covered cheek that felt so lovely. 

 

“Lou, ‘m a witch.” is all he says, and waits for the rejection. But Louis’ laugh hits his ears, his breath ghosting over him and his eyes so full of mirth. Harry’s confused again.

 

“I know. Niall told me. And Zayn filled the bits that he left out in.” Louis grins, shoving his hair out of his eyes, shaking his head. “Thank God for those two lovesick idiots, I’d never have found out where you were.”

 

“So, you know, then?” Harry asks. 

 

“Yeah, you can do wacky stuff with my tea, sense my emotions and change my emotions with a cup of tea of candy and awesome stuff like that.” Louis shrugs. 

 

“And you’re not bothered by that?” Harry asks, once more timid and fearful. 

 

“Not in the least, mate.” Louis shakes his head. “It’s really not that important to me, unless you slipped me some sort of love potion.”

 

Harry’s mouth falls open in shock, and he begins to retort, but Louis’ standing in one fluid motion, and swinging his legs over Harry’s hips, lowering his body weight onto him, leaning close so their noses touch.

 

“So, it must be a witch thing, or something, that we’re so connected, this ‘To Be’ thing?” Louis smells like Gorgio Armani and some sort of peppermint and Harry is turning hot under his intense gaze, the way his eyes flicker to his wrists. 

 

“Yea…’A ‘To Be’ is when a witch has found someone who they could spend a lifetime with, who they could love and treasure forever. If the ‘To Be’ loves the witch, all side effects of having a ‘To Be’ will vanish, and the two will be at peace…’” He quotes. 

 

“And if not, you were going to….die?” Louis’ eyes are open and scared now, and he brushes his nose against Harry’s deliberately. 

 

“Yeah, Lou.” Harry sighs. “But not anymore.” 

 

“Right.” Louis laughs nervously, and shakes his head, sitting up, and Harry wants to drag him back. 

 

“So, I’ve got to kiss you, isn’t that a thing? Seal the fate and all that?” Louis’ eyes are twinkling.

 

“Maybe.” Harry retorts, feeling his own mouth smile. 

 

“But we’re not over after that, are we?” Louis replies, and Harry shakes his head.

 

“Come kiss me, Louis Tomlinson.”

 

“With pleasure.”

 

When his mouth meets his, it’s not flaming hot. It’s gentle, and tender, and Louis sucks his lower lip into his mouth and caresses it with his teeth and Harry lets his hands drift to his lower back, fitting one hand into the pocket of his jeans, trying to breathe, but struggling to because his magic is swirling in his throat, going into Louis.

 

Louis draws back, and frowns.

 

“Was that…?”

 

“Yeah.” Harry replies, and Louis smiles.

 

“Feels tingly.”

 

And he locks their lips again and licks heatedly into his mouth, tasting like the tropics and pine needles and their hips rock together, Louis groaning and squirming on his lap and Harry grabbing at him, feeling the tears run down his face.When they surface for air, their a mess from Harry’s magic and Louis is smiling like the sun.

 

“Time to go home, eh?” Louis asks, and Harry nods.

 

“Time to start anew.” 

 

“Obviously, you’re moving in with me.” Louis smiles, and Harry just laughs aloud. 

 

“Let’s see what happens.” 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for the Chapter: Witchcraft by Sinatra. ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFmNgiEgPoQ ) 
> 
> Finally, sorry for the long wait. Hope you're ready for the long awaited fluff.


End file.
